


Sartorial

by Shenanigans



Category: DCU, Teen Titans
Genre: Gen, Preboot, WAFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/Shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick Ficlet about why Kon tucks his shirt and wears a belt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sartorial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knightwingers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=knightwingers).



Tim eyed the uniform, blue eyes sharp as he circled Conner once. "Just one thing."

Conner tried to follow him, head turning before snapping around to catch him on the way around. He looked down at himself, jeans and his black t-shirt that he'd gotten them to screen print the logo on. "What's wrong with it?" He plucked at them hem, nose wrinkled.

Tim wet his lips, moving close and taking the edge of the shirt between his fingers, noting absently the way Conner obliged and lifted his arms, blinking at him up close. "You fly."

"Duh."

Tim tilted him one of those quick sharp smiles, turning quickly to open the drawer in his room. Conner half expected him to drag out a spare part from the cycle or some sort of explosive device, but exhaled when he just pulled a simple black belt out and crossed back to him. "Think about it."

Conner was going to say something. It was going to be witty and perfect, but what came out was a startled "Nrgh," as Tim's fingers started briskly tucking the cotton into the waist of his jeans. He stopped breathing, eyes going wide as those strong fingers pushed against his stomach, his hips, his sides, and finally the small of his back. "What?"

Tim glanced up at him, shaking out the belt and Conner could still feel where his forearms had pressed tight against his waist and was hoping that he had enough self control - thank god for the liberal use of TTK to keep certain things in check - to make words. "When you fly you don't have the traditional gravity center," Tim was explaining, voice low and instructive as he was threading the belt into the loops of his jeans. "You don't notice it, because it's natural to you and you've always worn the more traditional form fitting costumes." He lifted a shoulder, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth as he found the back loops and made his way to the other hip. He looked back down. "However, it would be unfortunate if you couldn't see the bad guys because your shirt had ridden up and flopped over your face."

"Uh." There was a clatter of metal and Conner curled his fingers against his palms to keep from naturally placing his hands on Tim's shoulders as he fastened the buckle. "Good thinking."

The was a small huff of sound that Conner knew was a dry laugh from Tim and he caught his gaze, eyes locked for a moment as Tim brushed his hands over the front of the shirt like he was straightening the fabric. "That's what I'm here for."

Conner didn't breathe until Tim stepped back, glancing down at the belt before forcing an eyebrow up and nodding once. "Okay then."


End file.
